Pages

Printing up the various textual portions of my Winter Postcard Swap I think I managed to keep Titivillus frustrated. I don't think any misplaced letters or misspelled words managed to sneak in. That doesn't mean that no Printer's Devils were at work though. It seems that no matter what I have the habit of leaving ink traces where they don't belong. Try as I might, ink seemed to creep onto my fingers and migrate its way around to the non printed side of the pieces. Some of course were worse than others. I hope the recipients will accept these stray marks as proof of the hand made nature of the cards.

You can see in the picture that the work surface took the brunt of the slung ink. Why is it that a brayer always wants to first off roll backwards off the block and onto the table? Arghhhhh........

Sketches

Urban Sketcher

A book is a part of life, a manifestation of life, just as much as a tree or a horse or a star. It obeys its own rhythms, its own laws, whether it be a novel, a play, or a diary. The deep, hidden rhythm of life is always there—that of the pulse, the heart beat.